


The Ties that Bind

by relucant



Series: Aesthetics in Autoerotica [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Artist Castiel, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Dean, Enthusiastic Consent, Kinbaku, M/M, Photographer Castiel, Photography, Rope Bondage, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:21:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4919419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relucant/pseuds/relucant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wait -- you want to <i>what</i>?"</p><p>Dean stared at Cas, a beer paused halfway to his lips and the credits for <i>A New Hope</i> still rolling on the television, but Cas just licked pepperoni grease off of his thumb and set his plate down.</p><p>"To tie you with rope.  Artistically, of course."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ties that Bind

Cas seemed to have effectively fallen off the face of the Earth after his initial session with Dean.

Dean debated texting him, but he couldn't figure out quite what to even say -- _hey man what's up_ and _so how'd those pictures of my dick turn out_ both sounded equally ridiculous, so he decided to wait it out.

After a few days, he casually asked Charlie if she'd seen him around campus, under the guise of planning their next session, but she just rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, if he's in developer mode, good luck," she snorted without looking up from her easel. "Think he bribes people to just slide salads under the dark room door so he doesn't have to leave. Especially if he's got _your_ pretty ass on his tray. You're _so_ his type."

Dean flushed, turning away quickly, but Charlie caught it.

"Aesthetically speaking, I mean," she reassured him, swiping her hair out of her eyes and leaving a streak of blue paint. "Don't worry, I don't think he's able to put his camera down long enough to touch anything -- or anyone -- else. He's infamous for it."

Dean nodded, blush deepening, and mumbled something incomprehensible. Charlie finally lowered her brush, staring at him.

"Wait," she said slowly. "There's something you're not telling me. Either you've got a crush on him -- which, well, you're in good company -- or…" She trailed off, squinting at him, then a grin spread across her face. "Oh my _god_ ," she yelled, smacking him with her paintbrush and ignoring his yelp. "Did you _seriously_ bone _Cas Novak_?"

"Oh my god," Dean echoed with a groan. "Are you ever not awful?"

"Uh, really?" she said incredulously. "If you seriously hit that, _I'm_ taking the credit for it, and am therefore the best wing woman _ever_."

"Jesus Christ," Dean muttered, scrubbing at his paint-smeared forearm. "Just -- don't tell people, okay? I mean, _I_ don't care, but I think he was worried that --"

"Dude," she interrupted, looking insulted. "I thought we just established that I'm an awesome best friend, not a complete dick." She paused, wrinkling her nose. "Gotta admit, though, I'm kinda torn between demanding the gory deets versus never wanting those images in my head, like, ever."

"Well," Dean said, feeling slightly better, "I mean, I can get them framed for your birthday." He ducked away before she could attack him with more paint.

"Then you're paying for my service dog after I _blind myself_ ," she yelled after him, and something that sounded suspiciously like a shoe hit his door with a thunk.

\- - -

Sure enough, the next day his phone buzzed, and Dean resolutely ignored the tingling in his belly when Cas' name flashed up.

From: Cas Novak  
_Hello, Dean._

Dean smiled, shaking his head, but before he could reply it buzzed again.

From: Cas Novak  
_I apologize for being out of touch. I tend to lose track of -- well, everything, when I'm in the middle of a project._

To: Cas Novak  
_heh, charlie mentioned a rumor abt, like, salad bribery. who bribes for salad, man?_

From: Cas Novak  
_Would it be better if I said it's usually pizza?_

To: Cas Novak  
_dude. yes. pizza makes everything better. duh._

From: Cas Novak  
_May I bribe your forgiveness with pizza, then?_

Dean rolled his eyes, grinning down at his phone.

To: Cas Novak  
_i mean, i was gonna say i'm not mad anyway, but if there's pizza on the table then yeah i'm totally furious_

From: Cas Novak  
_I assume beer might assist in solidifying your forgiveness?_

To: Cas Novak  
_dude. you know me so well_

From: Cas Novak  
_Intimately._

From: Cas Novak  
_;)_

From: Cas Novak  
_Speaking of which, we can discuss our next session as well, if you're interested._

Dean's grin faded, and he hesitated, still unsure as to where exactly he fell on Cas' venn diagram of _subject_ versus _friend_ versus _lover_. It buzzed again before he'd settled on a reply.

From: Cas Novak  
_Or you could just bring over Star Wars. Since apparently my never having seen it causes you grievous emotional distress._

To: Cas Novak  
_well it IS fkn tragic, dude_

To: Cas Novak  
_uh, could do both? y'know, shop talk then star wars?_

To: Cas Novak  
_or vice versa. nothin like beer and harrison ford to get me in the mood to talk about my dick_

From: Cas Novak  
_Noted. :)_

\- - -

"Wait -- you want to _what_?"

Dean stared at Cas, a beer paused halfway to his lips and the credits for _A New Hope_ still rolling on the television, but Cas just licked pepperoni grease off of his thumb and set his plate down.

"To tie you with rope. Artistically, of course."

"Oh, of course," Dean agreed, finally taking another swallow. "I mean, what _other_ ways're there to tie someone up but _artistically_?"

Cas rolled his eyes, and Dean hid a smirk. "Rope has been used for decorative purposes for many centuries. And as a form of artistic bondage as far back as the Japanese Edo period -- though admittedly, then it was more intended for restraint and humiliation than eroticism."

Dean shifted uncomfortably, looking away. "Uh, humiliation sounds like it might fall kinda outta my comfort zone," he admitted. "And not, like, in the fun way."

Cas touched his arm. "It's out of mine as well -- and not something I'm interested in. Nor is restraint solely for the purpose of restraint, for that matter."

Dean relaxed slightly, but he fiddled with his beer. "So we're not talking, y'know, hog-tied in latex with a ball gag in my mouth?"

Cas snorted, and a smile quirked at Dean's mouth. "Does that _really_ seem my style?"

"Okay, maybe not," Dean acknowledged with a grin. "But let's be real, I dunno how far out of your usual style you're thinkin' 'bout goin'."

"That's fair," Cas admitted. "If it makes you feel better, even if I were interested in the more intense bondage aspects, it's not something I have much experience in, and wouldn't be comfortable jumping into it even if you were."

"Huh." Dean chewed thoughtfully at a thumbnail. "Okay, well, long as we're not goin' into, y'know, bring-out-the-gimp territory, it's up for discussion. But I really dunno what you're talkin' about, dude. Sounds like, I dunno, tyin' me up without actually tyin' me up?"

Cas hummed. "In a way, that's fairly accurate. Some level of restraint could be involved, if we both agree to it. But it could also be done without restricting your movement severely, or even at all."

"Huh," Dean said again. He considered his beer. "But, like… how?"

Cas reached over the side of the couch, fumbling around and coming up with a battered laptop. He flipped it up, tapped at a few keys, then handed it to Dean.

"Here are some examples. And don't freak out, it's difficult to filter the simpler ties from the -- well, the 'bring-out-the-gimp', as you say. But it might give you an idea."

Dean took it dubiously -- then immediately tried to hand it back. "Dude! I do _not_ bend like that, no fuckin' way."

Cas rolled his eyes again and scooted closer to Dean. He scrolled down briefly before clicking on an image.

"Here," he said, nudging it back towards Dean. "This is more along the lines of what I've been thinking about. His hands are bound, obviously, but you can see there's no intent to immobilize or subjugate."

"Yeah, be child's play gettin' outta that," Dean agreed. Cas raised an eyebrow, but Dean just looked at the photograph. "I kinda see the appeal," he finally admitted. "The geometry -- symmetry an' all that. It's, I dunno, pretty."

Cas grinned at him, open and honest. "I think so."

Dean nudged him in the ribs with his elbow, to which Cas retaliated with a shoulder-check, and Dean shifted away, laughing.

"Supposed to be talking _shop_ ," he reminded Cas, balancing the laptop on his knees. Pausing on another picture, he chewed on his lip. "I might try the hands thing here," he said slowly. "Like behind the head. But the whole, ugh, rope thong thing, I dunno."

"Chafing," Cas agreed. "Definitely not something I'd try very soon."

"Especially not if you want your dick anywhere near there again," Dean retorted without thinking, then flushed. "I mean -- sorry."

Cas tilted his head, looking up at Dean consideringly. "There are other options, I believe," he said at last, and Dean let out a tiny choked sound. 

Cas threw him a small smirk before settling back next to him, their knees knocking together. "What about this?" he asked, pointing to another image. "His limbs and torso are bound extensively, yet there's no restriction of movement. I thought something like that might be a good starting point?"

Dean stared at the picture. Lengths of rope encircled the subject's arms and thighs, and more crisscrossed his chest and looped behind his back. But Cas was right: at no point were the ropes tied together to keep his body in place.

And Dean couldn't deny that his eyes lingered on the subject's cock. It was unbound, but curved hard and wet against two lines of rope crossing between hipbones and ribcage, and even in the black-and-white, the arousal was evident in the man's eyes.

"Do you like that?" Cas asked, clearly trying to keep his voice noncommittal.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, maybe," he admitted. "I, um -- we could try that."

Cas stared at him for a moment, eyes unreadable. "Okay." He turned back to the television and picked up the remote. " _The Empire Strikes Back_? Isn't that one of the most famous?"

Dean stared back at him in disbelief. "Really?" he asked, anger edging his voice. "I tell you I'd let you do -- do _this_ to me -- and all you gotta say is _okay_?"

Cas turned back to him immediately, wide-eyed. "I -- Dean." He nudged at Dean's hand on the couch, and Dean grudgingly allowed Cas to hook their pinkies together. "What I said before -- that I never want to use my art for -- for manipulation. I mean that, and it's important to me."

"Dude, you ain't --"

"I know I'm not intentionally," Cas interrupted. "But… this isn't easy for me either. I told you, I don't get involved with my subjects."

Dean flinched away, but Cas twined their hands further together, tapping at Dean's knuckles.

"I'm also not quite so self-sacrificing for my art as to deny that I like you. Very much." Dean's eyes shot to his, taking in the sincerity in the shimmering stare. "Would it be okay if we just had a -- a normal date? I admit I'm not so well versed as to what that entails, but --"

He shut up as Dean leaned in to kiss him, soft and sweet.

"Yeah, Cas," he said, snatching the remote control and slinging his leg over Cas'. "We can do that."

\- - -

The next morning Dean woke up with his legs tangled in unfamiliar sheets and his arm draped over a somewhat familiar body. Dark hair tickled his nose, and he couldn't resist burying his face in it, inhaling the clean, earthy scent.

"Are you sniffing me," Cas mumbled, voice raspy with sleep.

"Maybe," Dean affirmed with a yawn. "Smells nice." He stretched, letting his hand trail down Cas' stomach, teasing at the waistband of his boxers. Cas groaned, arching slightly, but batted his hand away.

"No morning sex," he said.

Dean sighed into Cas' neck. "No sex last night _and_ no sex this mornin'? Tryin' to make an honest man of me or what?"

"Gotta go to the studio," Cas reminded him, reaching back to give Dean's ass a sleepy pat.

"Shouldn't we be relaxed then?" Dean pointed out reasonably, and Cas let out a noise that from anyone else could be called a giggle.

"I don't know. You're cute when you're nervous." He rolled over and kissed Dean hard, then scrambled off.

"Yeah, well… _you're_ cute when I'm nervous," Dean grumbled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Several hours later Dean was sitting cross-legged on the studio floor with Cas, the laptop open between them. He was still fully clothed, but every time Cas picked up one of the long, silky grey ropes scattered around the floor, he felt uncomfortably exposed -- if also increasingly turned on.

Cas' shift from sleepy grad student to consummate artist was almost palpable. He wasn't as physically detached as he'd been at the outset, as he laid out lengths of rope experimentally over Dean's forearms or held them up to his chest, but the touches were precise and calculated, accompanied by narrowed eyes and tilted head.

Something, however, sparked behind his eyes when he caught the visible swallow in Dean's throat, and Dean felt the familiar burn settle into his face as Cas' gaze dropped to his lap.

"Are you excited?" Cas asked. He tapped Dean's wrist with the tip of a rope. "To have me bind you with these?"

"I'm _curious_ ," Dean huffed. Cas glanced pointedly back to his lap, and the obvious bulge in his jeans, and his blush deepened. "I mean, _you're_ the one who refused sex this morning," he pointed out, trying for levity. "S'your fault."

Cas just smiled, returning his attention to the laptop screen.

"May I try this?" he finally said, tilting the laptop towards Dean. "Just on one arm. You can stay clothed. If you like."

Dean stuck his tongue out. "Yeah, I'll preserve my modesty while I can, thanks." He leaned towards the screen.

The man's left arm was bound from bicep to wrist, crisscrossed with intricate knots and patterns, but it appeared to be fully mobile, not tied to any other part of his body. Dean found himself admiring the elegance in the long, clean lines of the rope.

"Uh." He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. I -- we can try that."

"You're sure?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, I think I can handle some rope around my _arm_."

Cas flicked him lightly on the elbow. "You'll tell me if you're uncomfortable? Physically or emotionally -- even if you think it's silly?"

Dean threw him a crooked smile. "Just don't give me gangrene an' we're good."

"Promise." Cas slid a cool fingertip down the inside of Dean's arm, drawing a path of goosebumps. Staring intently at the photograph, he picked up a length of rope, running it between his fingertips.

On a whim, Dean nudged a foot towards Cas' camera, still lying untouched on the floor. "Can I --?"

Cas glanced up, frowning slightly. "Dean, you know I don't usually --"

"Oh, c'mon," Dean interrupted. "I mean, a'course I won't if you really don't wanna, but you're the one tyin' me up here; don't you think it'd be neat to see yourself _doin'_ the tying?"

Cas chewed his lip. "Fine," he conceded, "but I have right of deletion."

"You're the boss," Dean assured him. He picked up the camera, turning it over in his hands a few times, then shrugged and raised it to his eyes. Cas' attention was already back on the screen, and Dean snapped a few pictures of his long fingers fumbling with the rope, trying to recreate the knots in the photo.

"Dude, it's just a square knot," Dean finally said, lowering the camera. "Here, can I --?"

He held out his hand. Cas dropped the rope into it, looking dubious, and Dean picked up another piece. With a few deft twists of his fingers, he pulled the ropes into an elegant knot, handing it back to Castiel with a flourish.

Cas raised his eyebrows, admiring the knot. "Boy Scout?"

"Uh." Dean cleared his throat. "Nah, just -- somethin' my dad taught me. Same as tyin' your shoes, really."

"Show me?" Cas asked, pulling the knot apart and holding the ropes back out.

Dean smirked at him. "Teacher becomes the student, huh?" he said, taking the ropes and laying them on the floor.

"I'm not a teacher," Cas pointed out. "Nor a bondage professional."

"Not _yet_ ," Dean mumbled. He twisted his fingers as Cas watched intently, then displayed the knotted ends. "See?"

"I think so." He took the rope back and tugged it apart again. Brow furrowed, he let the rope slip through his fingers until equal lengths hung from his hands, then carefully pulled the ends under and over.

After a few moments, he held it out for inspection, the ropes neatly bisected by an elegant knot.

"Perfect," Dean declared. He snapped a quick picture of the smooth fibers trailing through Cas' fingers, ignoring his scowl.

"Give me that," Cas said, reaching out his hand.

Dean surrendered the camera, and Cas set it down carefully before holding his hand out again expectantly.

"Your arm," Cas clarified at Dean's quizzical look.

Dean swallowed, then straightened out his left arm, pushing his t-shirt sleeve up to his shoulder.

Cas looped the ropes around his arm until the knot was at the back, just above the elbow. "Hold that there, please?"

Dean obliged, reaching over to hold the knot in place with his free hand.

"I researched safe and unsafe places to knot," Cas explained, pulled two of the ropes up around Dean's bicep, "but if anything feels uncomfortable, you --"

"I'll let you know, even if I think it's fine, blah blah," Dean interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"Your recklessness will not deter me from asking with annoying frequency," Cas informed him. "Just so you know."

"'m not _reckless_ ," Dean mumbled, watching Cas tie another knot on the inside of his upper arm before moving to the other ropes.

"I could use _insouciant_ , maybe," Cas offered with a small smile. He finished looping the rope around Dean's forearm and tying it off, then pulled Dean's hand away to examine his arm.

"How does it feel?" he asked, slipping a finger underneath the rope to test its tension. "Too tight?"

Dean twisted his arm experimentally. "I don't think so?" he said. "Not sure what it's, like, supposed to feel like, but it doesn't hurt…"

"Flex your muscles?"

Dean made a fist, then bent his elbow to flex his bicep. "Think it's okay." He held out his arm again. "Um… go ahead? I'll keep you posted. Promise," he added as Cas raised an eyebrow.

Cas nodded. He traced the existing binds with the pad of his thumb, and Dean bit back a surprised gasp.

Cas looked at him questioningly, and Dean blushed. "Just, uh -- sensitive," he said. "Didn't expect that."

"Hmm," Cas said. He tied another knot on Dean's bicep, just below his shoulder, then pulled the sleeve back down, admiring the way the silky grey ropes disappeared under the black cotton. He turned Dean's arm so that it was stretched out palm facing up, draping the loose lower ropes over his forearm. Leaning back, he picked up his camera.

The late morning sun streamed bright through the window, and Cas shuffled around on his knees, snapping pictures from various angles. Focusing on Dean's bare wrist, he slowly moved up, along the loose ropes resolving themselves into geometry. Dean's face was tilted down towards his arm, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, and Cas shifted over to capture the tiny shadows from his lashes spiking on his cheeks.

Without lowering his camera, he reached out and cupped Dean's face.

Dean's eyes flew open, but Cas just shook his head slightly. "Keep your eyes closed, please."

Dean hesitated, then obeyed, and Cas gently tilted Dean's head to the side, exposing his neck. Panning down, he snapped the sunlight pooling in his collarbone and casting shadows along his jawline. He hooked a finger into Dean's t-shirt, tugging it down until the top knot of rope was just visible against the expanse of skin at his shoulder.

Finally he picked up the loose ends and knotted them down Dean's forearm, ending in a snug circle around his wrist.

"Beautiful," he murmured, dragging a thumb down Dean's neck. Dean's flush deepened, but he didn't protest. "May I tie your other arm?"

Dean opened his eyes, and he blinked a few times, biting his lip, before reaching down slowly and peeling off his shirt.

Tossing it to the side, he hesitated again, flexing his fingers like he didn't know quite where to put them. "Unless -- is that okay?" he asked. "You're the boss an' all."

"Dean, if I ever tell you _not_ to take your clothes off, feel free to douse me in holy water," Cas said dryly.

Dean snorted, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand, then stretched his right arm out in clear offering.

Instead of picking up more rope, Cas took Dean's wrist, pulling it across his body and settling his left hand on his right elbow. Dean cocked his head curiously, but Cas just leaned back, focusing his camera on the juxtaposition of Dean's bound forearm with his bare one.

"Perfect." He took another two lengths of rope and carefully knotted them around Dean's right arm, pulling and adjusting until his arms were crisscrossed in perfect symmetry.

"Okay?" he asked, sliding two fingers against Dean's wrist. "Too tight? Any discomfort?"

Dean bent his elbows and twisted his arms. "Fine, so far." He flexed his wrists, spreading his fingers. "How, uh, d'you want me?" Cas' eyes darkened minutely, and Dean couldn't resist throwing him a small wink.

"Shift onto your knees," Cas said, ignoring him. Dean obeyed, grimacing as his knees hit the wood floor.

Cas lowered the camera immediately. "I'm sorry -- is that painful?"

"Uh -- little uncomfortable," Dean admitted, shifting his weight. "I mean, s'okay, but rather not stay like this too long."

"I'll be quick," Cas assured him. "Lean back on your hands, please."

Cas' eyes lingered on Dean's stomach as he moved, thighs spreading slightly to balance his weight.

"Gonna just stare?" Dean drawled, arching his back in obvious display.

"You're the one who's uncomfortable," Cas pointed out, but he flushed slightly as he lifted his camera. "I could keep you like this all day." He circled around behind Dean, nudging his arms farther apart. The sun played along the musculature of his back, highlighting the freckles dotting the golden skin, and Cas let his camera trail down Dean's spine then back up his arms.

"Good." He touched Dean's shoulder gently. "Get on the bed, please. Same position, if it's not uncomfortable. Undo the button of your jeans."

Dean scrambled to his feet, straightening his knees with an audible _crack_ , and he let out a relieved sigh.

Cas frowned up at him. "That sounded unpleasant."

Dean just shrugged. "Too many hours spent under a car," he explained. "S'fine." He crossed to the bed and slid down to his knees again, unbuttoning his waistband and tugging the jeans down until his hipbones were exposed, then glanced up questioningly. "Like that?"

"Um." Cas dragged his eyes from the shadows slipping down into the denim. "Yes. Put your hands on your thighs."

Dean obeyed, first settling his hands on his knees, then flipping his palms over as if in offering, head tilted down.

"So beautiful," Cas said half to himself. "May I tie your chest?"

Dean swallowed. "Like -- to my hands? Or --?"

Cas shook his head. "Perhaps, but not yet. Just wrapped around your torso."

"O-okay. Yeah." Dean straightened up, spreading his arms, then flashed a crooked smile. "Do it up."

Cas set his camera down and picked up the longest length of rope, letting it flow between his fingers. He wrapped it loosely around Dean's back, looping under his arms, trying different angles and patterns.

When he tugged it down, the silky fibers rubbed over Dean's nipples, and Dean sucked in a sharp gasp. Curiously, Cas gathered the rope between his fingers until he could pinch it around one nipple. Dean whimpered, arching his back, and Cas repeated it with the other.

"That may be a project for another day," Cas murmured, watching Dean's chest rise and fall under his hands.

"Gonna kill me," Dean muttered without opening his eyes.

"Not my style," Cas assured him. He pinched once again, hard, drawing out a long, low whine, before pulling the rope taut over Dean's pectorals and knotting it neatly at his sternum. "Okay?" he asked, tugging at the loose ends. "Take a deep breath."

Dean stretched, inhaling. "Fine."

Cas trailed a finger down the musculature, toying thoughtfully with the rope.

Finally he just drew the ropes down and back, looping over and under to crisscross each other before meeting back on his stomach. Cas tied another knot just under the navel, allowing just enough rope to dangle along the half-open zipper down to the outline of his dick at the crotch of his jeans.

He picked up his camera, snapping a picture of his own fingers tangled in the loose ends near Dean's waistband, then stood up, shooting down Dean's body. Circling around again, he reached out to center the loops over Dean's spine, zooming in on the narrow paths of grey silk bisecting the constellations of freckles.

"Take off your jeans, please," Cas requested, following the shadows to the small of his back.

"Better not be thinkin' 'bout tyin' up my dick," Dean mumbled as he fumbled the zipper down the rest of the way, carefully avoiding the short dark curls.

"Even if I wanted to?" Cas asked without lowering his camera.

Dean's head snapped around, eyes wide. "Dude, no way -- you said --"

"I'm joking, Dean," Cas assured him, finally looking up. "Believe me, I have vested interest in not inflicting gangrene on your cock."

Dean snorted softly as he wiggled out of his jeans, commando as requested. "Well, _that_ makes me feel better." He shucked them to the side then settled back on his heels. Freed from the confines of the thick denim, his cock curved up thick and red, trapping the soft rope ends against his stomach.

Cas stared down at him, until Dean dropped his eyes under the intensity of his gaze.

"May I tie your legs?" Cas asked. "Not together," he added quickly as Dean narrowed his eyes. "Just your thighs, as your arms."

"Um. Yeah, okay." He shifted back, glancing down at himself. "How --?"

Cas hummed. "Lie back, please, and bend your legs. Keep flexing your muscles -- it would be easy to tie these too tightly."

Dean obeyed, face reddening as his legs fell open. Cas traced a fingertip down his inner thigh, and Dean's cock twitched visibly.

"Yeah, yeah, don't make fun of my bowlegs," he mumbled, trying to straighten them out.

Cas cocked his head. "I love your legs," he said sincerely, nudging them back into their natural curve. "They're beautiful. All of you is beautiful."

The flush on Dean's cheeks deepened as he looked away, and Cas lifted his camera to capture its highlights before panning back down his body. Reaching out, he picked up one of the two free ends, draping it down over his length. Dean hissed as the cool silk dragged over the sensitive skin.

Cas ignored him. He knelt on the bed, pushing at his knees to reposition his legs, then laid a long cord of rope over Dean's left thigh. Dean just watched with half-lidded eyes as Cas experimented with different patterns and loose knots. Frowning, Cas untied and retied them over and over, before finally just looping it just under Dean's groin and crisscrossing the ends until he ran out of rope.

"Flex," he instructed after he had tied the ends together halfway to his knee.

"I _have_ been," Dean retorted. He let his leg relax, and the ropes slackened, but stayed in place. "See?"

"Good," Cas said, adjusting the binds. "Is it comfortable?"

"S'fine," Dean assured him, testing his range of motion. He shifted slightly, proffering his other leg.

Cas stared at him for a moment, then raised his camera almost dazedly, following the angles of his body bent in clear offering.

"You are magic," he murmured as Dean spread his knees further. "You are art."

"Yeah, well, I'll… art _you_ ," Dean mumbled, looking away again. He flexed his leg once, and Cas winced as the kneecap cracked.

"You're sure --?"

"Dude, it just does that." He popped it again and shrugged. "So you gonna finish me off here or what?" 

Cas raised an eyebrow. Dean smirked, aiming for bravado, but Cas just scrounged up another length of rope.

"Looks like you're runnin' out," Dean pointed out. "Hope you don't got anythin' crazy planned."

"I have more," Cas said matter-of-factly, as he redid the design on Dean's other thigh. "But no, I think I'm done." He tied off the rope, smoothing it until the patterns mirrored each other perfectly.

Dean swallowed. "So you don't wanna -- y'know --" He waved his hands vaguely, but Cas just looked confused. "Like, uh, a couple of those pictures," he continued. Blushing again, he brought his hands together in front of him, and Cas' eyes went wide.

"Are you," Cas said slowly, reaching out to encircle Dean's wrist with his fingers, "are -- do you want to? I told you, we don't have to…"

"I mean," Dean said with a small laugh. "Nothin' too weird, don't get me wrong. But I figured, I dunno," -- he spread his arms and straightened one leg onto the bed, "-- y'got me here already, might as well, y'know… try…"

"I don't deserve you," Cas said, sincerity written in his eyes. "Uh -- how would you feel most comfortable?"

Dean sat up, considering the ropes around his body.

"I liked the, uh, the dude with his hands behind his neck," he said, bringing a thumb up to nibble at the nail, "but… I dunno, I feel like maybe, with all, uh, this goin' on," and he gestured down his body, "might feel a little, y'know, exposed," he concluded lamely. "I mean -- we could try, if you wanna, I just --"

"What about behind your back?" Cas interrupted. "If I just --" He moved around, sinking onto the bed. "Sit up. Hand me that?"

Dean complied, tossing the last bit of rope over his shoulder. Cas caught his hands and pulled them together, looping the rope under the ties at his wrists.

"So your hands are partially free," he explained, tugging at the rope under his fingers. "Bound behind your back, but still able to move."

Dean twisted his wrists experimentally, flexing his fingers. "Uh -- yeah, I think -- I think that works for me." He arched his back slightly, testing the extent of the restraint, and Cas sucked in a breath. "You sure you don't want me more, y'know -- tied up?"

"No," Cas said, regaining his professional demeanor. "I wanted _you_ for this project. I love the way you look, these binds, but helplessness doesn't belong on you." He knotted the rope, then ran his hands down Dean's arms, unable to resist leaning in to press a kiss at his shoulderblade.

"Cas…" Dean murmured, tilting his head back, but Cas just stepped away, ignoring Dean's displeased sigh.

He picked up his camera, walking in a slow circle around Dean without raising the viewfinder.

"How, uh -- how d'you want me?" Dean asked.

Cas stared down at him, considering his posture. His right leg was still stretched out on the bed with his left knee bent, and he leaned slightly against it, wrists twisting absently at the small of his back.

Dean dropped his eyes under Cas' intent gaze, and Cas finally brought the camera up, capturing the tension in the lines of his arms down his back.

"Bring your other leg up," Cas instructed. "Rest your chin on your knees, however is comfortable."

Dean obeyed, shifting until he could settle his chin in the valley between his knees, cheek tilted to one side.

"Look up at me."

Dean lifted his head, but Cas stopped him with a gentle hand on the back of his neck.

"Just your eyes, please. Keep your head still."

Dean bit his lip, raising his eyes to gaze at Cas through the fan of his lashes.

"Beautiful," Cas murmured. Dean dropped his eyes automatically, and Cas crouched at his side, catching the blush rising in his cheeks. He circled around, focusing on Dean's bound hands, then zoomed out, panning up Dean's arms as they twisted instinctively behind him. "Can you move to your knees again?"

"Um. I -- I think so." Dean braced his hands on the bed and slid sinuously to his knees, tucking his legs underneath him and leaning forward. "Like this?"

"Yes." Cas focused on his quadriceps as he settled back, leaving tiny pink lines underneath the ropes. "Is that too tight?"

Dean shifted back and forth, flexing the muscles. "No, s'okay. No tighter, but I'm good."

"So good," Cas echoed, barely audible. Dean looked down, blush spreading down his throat, the supplication of his posture at odds with his cock, hard and leaking against his belly.

On a whim Cas reached behind him and untied his hands, bringing them together at his chest as if in prayer. He wrapped the rope around loosely, starting at his wrists and crisscrossing the backs of his hands.

"Okay?" Cas asked, tying off the rope and letting the ends dangle freely. Dean's breathing hitched, and Cas stepped back slightly. "Dean?"

"Y-yeah." Dean dropped his head, lips nearly brushing his knuckles.

"Perfect," Cas whispered. He stepped back until he could capture Dean's entire body in the viewfinder, then zoomed in, snapping close-ups of Dean's mouth against his fingers, the slight sheen of sweat prickling on his abs, and the juxtaposition of his cock with the soft grey ropes.

Finally he reached out, tugging Dean's hands down until they rested in his lap. "Touch yourself, please," he requested, not bothering to disguise the arousal in his own voice.

Dean looked up at him, frowning, and flapped his hands awkwardly in their binds. "Um -- I'm kinda still --"

"Yes." Cas focused on Dean's hands fidgeting in his lap, then up to his face, lip caught between his teeth.

"Uh -- o-okay." Dean lifted his hands, twisting them slightly until he could work them around the head of his cock, then slid them slowly down.

"Fuck," he breathed, head tilting forward again. Cas shifted around the bed, angling his camera at Dean's fingers wrapped around the base.

"Good?" he asked, gently nudging Dean's thighs farther apart.

"Y-yeah. Intense." He flexed his hands, squeezing lightly without moving them. "Don't really, y'know, do it like this."

Cas smiled slightly without looking up. "You can move if you like."

Dean choked out a short laugh. "Dunno if that's a great idea, man. Not sure how much restraint I got left." He glanced down at the ropes, and essayed a smirk. "Uh, y'know, so to speak."

"So to speak," Cas agreed. "It's okay. You can make yourself come."

Dean's hips jerked automatically, thrusting himself up between his palms, and he moaned.

"Perfect." Cas dropped to his knees, zooming in on the precome beading heavily on the head. He reached out, capturing his own thumb rubbing through the liquid at the slit, and Dean shuddered.

"Cas," Dean begged, finally beginning to work his hands up and down in a stuttered rhythm. Cas lifted his eyes from the camera, gaze flickering between Dean's mouth and his hands.

"Fuck," Cas murmured unsteadily. He raised the camera again, trying to still the trembling in his fingers. Reaching out one hand, he wrapped it around Dean's , increasing the pressure.

"Oh Jesus," Dean hissed. He tightened his own grip further, squeezing around the head and spreading precome down his length. "Cas, Cas -- I'm gonna --"

"Yes." Cas zoomed in on Dean's face, lips wet and pink and parted. "Come, Dean -- come _now_ \--"

Dean's head fell back and his hips jerked, and then he was coming with a guttural cry. Cas knelt on the bed, attention rapt on the hot wetness spilling over Dean's fingers and pooling in the ropes, camera clicking nonstop.

Cas didn't lift his head as Dean came down, focusing on the rivulets of sweat dripping down his chest and the sunlight caught in the sheen of come on his hands.

"Jesus," Dean breathed, slumping forwards. "Jesus."

Cas made a noise of agreement, shuffling back to capture Dean's spent posture before finally setting the camera aside. Then he leaned forward, cupping Dean's face in his hands and kissing him deeply.

"Thank you," Cas said honestly when they broke apart. "That was -- thank you."

"Yeah, well, glad to be of service." Dean gazed up at him. "Especially if you kiss me like that again."

"Gladly." Cas leaned forward, catching Dean's lip between his teeth before sliding their lips back together.

Finally he pulled away and reached for the rope at Dean's wrists. Dean watched for a moment with half-lidded eyes, at the long fingers fumbling at the binds.

"Wait," he said suddenly, struggling to sit up. Cas paused, glancing up at him curiously. Dean flushed again, but shot him a grin, aiming for bravado. "I mean, I'd be kinda bummed if this party's over already." He cast a pointed glance at the crotch of Cas' jeans. "Seems like a shame to waste all this effort." He managed to slide his hands off his softening cock, bringing them back to his chest.

"Jesus," Cas whispered. He grabbed Dean's wrists, dropped his head, and licked a slow, worshipful path along his fingers, tonguing at the smears of come. Dean sucked in a breath, trying to tug Cas' mouth back to his, but Cas stopped him, gripping his hands firmly.

"Dean," he said, ignoring Dean's whine. "Dean, you know you don't have to -- I've put you through a lot already, you're not obligated to --"

Dean rolled his eyes, using Cas' arms to leverage himself up onto his knees and cutting him off with a kiss.

"In what universe," he murmured against Cas' lips, "do I want you to fuck me because I'm _obligated_ to?" He grabbed the hem of Cas' t-shirt between his palms, tugging at it insistently until Cas shrugged it over his head, and then went to work on his jeans. Cas stared down, at the bound hands thumbing open the button and yanking at the zipper.

"Little help here?" Dean said, quirking an eyebrow as he tried to pull the jeans off one leg at a time.

Cas shook himself, shifting until he could kick his jeans and boxers off at once, cock springing free, then crowded back into Dean's space. He kissed Dean hard, sliding his fingertips under the ropes crisscrossing his chest.

"And you want to keep these ties on?" he asked, tugging lightly.

"Y-yeah." Dean rolled his shoulders experimentally. "Feels -- I like it." He nudged Cas towards the headboard. "Lie back."

"Now you're bossy?" Cas teased, but he lay back obediently, eyes dark with arousal.

"Mm-hmm," Dean agreed. He leaned in to kiss Cas again, thumbs stroking at the hollow of his throat. He moved down slowly, mouthing along his chest and lingering on a nipple.

"Dean…"

Dean grinned up at him, then fitted his hands around Cas' cock, drinking in Cas' choked gasp. He slid them to the base, worked them up and down briefly, then bent down and pressed his mouth to the head.

"Oh, shit," Cas hissed. He stared down at Dean in awe. Almost on instinct, he reached over the side of the bed, fumbling for his camera.

Dean rolled his eyes again, but he couldn't help preening slightly. He tilted his head to the side and licked up the available expanse of Cas' dick, leaving both his tongue and bound hands visible to the camera. Tightening his grip, he stroked upwards until his fingers met his lips wrapped around the head, and he stared upwards unabashedly.

" _Dean_." Cas put the camera aside and tugged at Dean's hair until he pulled off slightly. "If you want me to -- if you keep going, I can't --"

Dean sucked Cas in deep, then lifted his head from Cas' lap. "Could distract yourself," he said, wiggling his hips. "Or distract me."

" _Jesus_." Cas trailed his hand down Dean's spine, lingering to slide his fingers under the ropes. "You're -- you're _sure_?"

In response, Dean just shifted to his side, letting Cas feel his cock already beginning to swell again.

" _Yes_ ," he insisted. "I'm _sure_."

"Fuck." Cas' hand drifted down between Dean's cheeks. "Um -- I have lube in the bathroom, I can --"

"Umgh," Dean asserted. He tilted his head to the side. "Jeans. Back pocket."

Cas pressed harder for a second, almost slipping the tip of his finger inside, then leaned over the bed, scrabbling at his jeans. Extricating the bottle of lube, he drizzled it over his fingers, sitting back against the headboard with one hand teasing at Dean's hole.

"Cas," Dean moaned. He settled his hands back in Cas' lap, fingertips twisting between his thighs, thumbs on his cock and lips brushing over the head. "Cas, c'mon…"

Finally Cas took a deep breath, sinking his middle finger in to the first knuckle.

"Fuck." Dean opened his mouth, suckling at the underside and shifting his hips up. "More, _c'mon_."

"Careful," Cas warned, working his finger in and out. "If -- if you want me to fuck you.."

"Hngh," Dean acknowledged. He licked one last slow stripe up Cas' length, then rested his head his thigh, breath still hot on sensitive skin. 

Cas slid his index finger in, other hand wrapped in Dean's hair. "I don't deserve you," he murmured, twisting and stretching until he could press a third finger in. "You're perfect."

"So not." Dean turned his head into Cas' thigh, taking deep breaths as Cas' fingers rubbed over his prostate. "Oh, fuck. Yeah -- just -- _fuck_ \--"

"Soon," Cas promised. He tugged at the ropes at Dean's wrists. "You want me to --?"

Dean blinked up at him for a second, then hauled himself upright, settling into Cas' lap.

"Yeah, I want you to," He linked his hands behind Cas' neck. "But no, I wanna keep these on."

"Shit," Cas hissed. He worked his fingers in and out for a few slow minutes, despite Dean's whimpering. "I actually -- um." He reached over the side of the bed again, this time for his own jeans, coming up with a condom. 

Dean smirked at him. "So not so unprepared anymore?"

"Not with you." Cas rolled it down his cock, then slicked himself up with lube. Dean raised himself up, then sank down slightly.

"Fuck," they breathed together, open-mouthed and staring.

Cas' hips jerked, and Dean moaned, hands twisting.

"Good," Dean breathed. He rubbed the rope over Cas' neck. "Baby, so good."

"Yeah." Cas put his hands on Dean's hips, urging him down, and Dean's cock jerked, fully hard again. "Okay?"

Dean snorted weakly. "Yeah. Yeah, _okay_."

"Dean, I'm not going to," Cas began, trying to still their movements. "It's -- I can't last --"

"S'okay," Dean assured him, riding his cock slowly. "S'good."

Cas fucked up into him for a few more minutes, tense and wide-eyed, biting his lip. Finally he dropped his head, gasping.

"Dean -- Dean, I'm --"

"Yeah, Cas." He arched his back, taking Cas deeper. "Oh, fuck, so good --"

"So -- so good." Cas gripped the rope at his hips, urging him up and down. "Fuck -- _fuck_ \--"

"Yeah," Dean breathed. He ground himself down, and then Cas was coming hard, pulsing inside him.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he murmured, wrapping his arms around Dean's back.

"Mmph," Dean agreed. He nuzzled into Cas' throat, arms still locked around his neck. "Is nice."

Cas kissed his shoulder, then looked down at his still-hard dick. "Mm-hmm," he agreed. "Nice." He pulled out carefully, tossing the condom in the corner before wrapping his hand around Dean's cock.

"Cas, dude, you don't," Dean began, then was silenced by an eye-roll. 

"As I believe you said, I know I don't _have_ to," Cas pointed out, then bent down. "But Jesus, I want to." He licked at Dean, drawing out a groan.

"F-fuck, no complaints."

Cas grinned at him, tugging lightly at the ropes at his hips. "Good." He bent his head, finally undoing the silk at Dean's wrists, and immediately fingers were in his hair.

"Oh, fuck, Cas…" Dean arched his back, watching Cas' mouth on his cock. "Shit, baby, you make me -- make me so --"

Cas hummed, and Dean found himself convulsing again, coming in hard, nearly painful spurts into Cas' mouth. Cas swallowed him down, tonguing gently at the sensitive head, and Dean whimpered.

"Shit," Dean wheezed, falling back to the bed. "Holy shit."

Cas sat back, looking up apprehensively. "That -- was that -- I mean --"

"Good," Dean declared. "Fucking amazing. Fuck." He tugged Cas closer. "Holy fuck."

"Mmrph." Cas slung his arm over Dean's waist, sighing.

"So," Dean said. "You like me."

Cas snorted softly. He straddled Dean's knees, tugging off the ropes around his thighs and massaging at the skin.

"Very much," he said softly. He picked up his camera, focusing on the tiny indentations, and Dean flushed again.

"You won't -- you know -- not these pictures --"

"Never without your permission," Cas said, putting it aside and working at the ropes at his torso.

Dean stared at him, then burst out laughing. "Dude, did you just misquote _Fifth Element_ at me?"

Cas grinned at him, bright and happy. "Multipass," he affirmed, finally undoing the last knot at Dean's shoulder. "Chicken good."

"Oh, my God," Dean groaned, pulling him into his chest. "You are -- you are a weird, _dorky_ little guy, you know that?"

"Are you complaining?" Cas murmured, pressing his lips to Dean's neck.

"No." Dean tightened his arms, settling down onto the pillows. "Definitely not."

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://relucant.tumblr.com) or [twitter>. I'm nice.](http://twitter.com/relucanting)


End file.
